Ultimate Heist
by Side Quest Publications
Summary: The Saturdays are called to investigate a series of seemingly unrelated incidents.  Will they discover the connection, and the mastermind behind these events, before it's too late? Note: Pseudo-shippy; "theories" to be salvaged for my original work.
1. Accusation

**I don't own the Secret Saturdays, or any of the characters mentioned in this chapter except for Zander.**

**Like almost any of the stories I will write that are **_**not**_** my generic history (or the "meanwhiles" I plan to do that take place during the show), this story draws on certain elements **_**from**_** my generic history. More to be referenced as I go along.  
**

**Warning: Doyle and Mizuki both act very out-of-character in this and the next chapter(s). Those who have seen the relevant chapters of my generic history should understand the reason for Doyle's behavior, particularly next chapter. Those who have not...well, he still explains it.  
Mizuki...I'm still not sure why he's acting this way. Other than losing his temper. But still...  
**

**And speaking of that generic history. Those who have not read the relevant chapters—which, given the timing of this writing, really means those who read this before I've even posted the relevant chapters—Paul knows what Doyle is capable of. He and Zander both, and at this point, **_**only**_** he and Zander, know Doyle's abilities, or the problems with them.  
(In the generic, I have it that Paul met Doyle on a job about ten-ish years before the show started, and learned of Doyle's abilities by accident. And for reasons which should already be known in the generic, he and Zander are both determined to tell nobody. At least until Doyle's willing to talk.)**

**Oh...and Doc swore in this chapter. Only once, and some might consider it a mild term. (Others might consider it a serious term, at least if they find religious terms to be especially offensive when used this way.)  
But I thought I should warn you.  
**

* * *

First Theft

The Saturdays had to fight their way into headquarters; for some reason, the rest of the Secret Scientists crowded around the doors.

Once they shoved their way through the group, it was easy to see why. Talu Mizuki paced the large room, clearly enraged, and the scientists were too nervous of his Hibagon body to approach.

Miranda stepped forward. "Professor Mizuki, we _can't_ help you if you won't tell us what's wrong."

"I'll tell you what's _wrong_!" Mizuki snarled. "That _witch_ you call a sister broke into my lab, _that's_ what's wrong! She stole my notes, one of my devices—" He glared at her.

Miranda trembled under the glare, but forced herself to continue. She nodded. "All right. So when did this happen? And exactly what did she—"

"Bah! I don't want _your_ help," he growled. "As far as I'm concerned, you're in _league_ with her!" He reached out an arm to swipe at her.

Miranda's mouth dropped open. She stepped back, to try to avoid the blow. The other scientists rushed out of the way. Some drew weapons, but he was too quick—

Mizuki's fist pounded into the floor, three inches to the left of where he'd aimed. He looked up to see what had stopped him.

"Chill, King Kong," Doyle said. He shifted his grip on the Hibagon's arm.

Doc's eye twitched.

"Maybe you haven't noticed," Doyle continued, "but Dr. Grey and her sister haven't exactly seen eye to eye since Abbey joined the other team. Why would you thi—"

Mizuki jerked his arm back, and at the same time, swung his free hand towards Doyle.

Doyle released Mizuki's arm, unbalancing the Hibagon. He leapt backwards to avoid the blow, bent in his arms to absorb the landing, and rolled onto all fours.

"Get him, Doyle!" Zak called out.

Paul quickly covered the boy's mouth. "Could we maybe try _not_ encouraging the lunatic fighting the homicidal gorilla?"

Zak pushed Paul's hand out of the way. "Aw, my uncle can take him."

Paul looked at Doyle's expression and shivered. "That's what I'm afraid of," he whispered.

"Huh?" Zak frowned up at him.

Paul just shook his head. If they didn't notice... If Doyle was restrained enough that nobody else could see it, then maybe he could keep it under control this time. Could _remember_ this time. But still, there was something about how he moved...

Paul suppressed a shudder. _Something not human._

Drew took advantage of the distraction to pull Miranda into the group.

Mizuki spun at the movement, and advanced on the two women.

Doyle leaped onto his back, wrapping his arms around the Hibagon's neck to stay on.

The Hibagon reached around, to try to dislodge the redhead. He snarled, baring his fangs. He made another grab for Doyle.

Doyle ducked, Mizuki's fingers missing his head by millimeters.

Miranda sent in Deadbolt to try to help Doyle. The robot managed to pin Mizuki's arms behind him, and tried a grab at his legs.

Mizuki reacted by flinging himself at a wall.

Doyle jumped onto a windowsill to get clear, but Deadbolt was not so lucky. Doyle paled at the sight of the crushed robot.

The Hibagon sneered at him.

And lunged.

"Doyle!" Drew screamed.

Doc and Paul rushed to the window. Doc leaned out to see where the two had fallen. "Zon—"

It was Paul who spotted them. "There!" He pointed to one of the nearer trees, easily more than thirty feet away.

_How the hell did he manage that?_ Doc wondered. Mizuki would have had no trouble, with his Hibagon body, but Doyle didn't even have his jetpack. Doc's eyes widened as he watched Doyle moved through the branches, cat-like, and more skilled than the pursuing Hibagon. "Uh...which one was supposed to be the gorilla?"

"I'll...I'll get back to you on that," Paul mumbled.

"He may have the brain of a human," Zander mused aloud, "but he doesn't seem to have trouble letting the Hibagon's instincts take over." Doc nodded, only half-listening.

Mizuki's larger body allowed him to cover more distance with less effort, and he began to catch up to Doyle. He reached out one long arm—

And Doyle startled the onlookers by changing direction, jumping onto a branch at least forty feet away, and climbing _down_, headfirst.

The Hibagon jumped down, landing near the base of the tree, just below Doyle. Doyle climbed into another tree before the Hibagon could start climbing again, and the Hibagon took up the chase from the ground.

The Hibagon saw the end of the trees a second after Doyle did. Doyle caught himself on one branch, and turned to change course.

And the Hibagon slammed into the tree. Doyle gripped the branch tight to keep from falling.

The Hibagon slammed into the tree again. He swung one fist at the tree, scooping out a chunk of wood in the process. He glared up at Doyle, then swung at the tree again.

Doyle looked around, wildly. The nearest tree... He could jump that far, but with the way the Hibagon was rocking the tree, he'd likely fall as soon as he let go. And the more the Hibagon worked at it, the further _this_ tree was from _any_ escape route.

The only other way was down...

Doyle looked down, and gulped. He was a lot higher up than he'd realized. _That_ technique had already helped him through the trees, and would probably save him if it came to it, but without any control, that would make things worse! He'd confronted the Hibagon to protect Dr. Grey, but if _that_ was to happen...

He shuddered. _I don't want to hurt anyone._ No, that was not an option. He had to get out of this..._without_ that...skill.

His changed eyes picked up movement in the sky. Zon flew down at him.

He no longer hesitated. He let go of his branch and let her catch him. The Hibagon roared in anger.

Zon carried Doyle back to the building and released him just above the landing pad. He braced himself for the impact, and rolled several times before he stopped.

He was just pushing himself to his knees, breathing in gulps of air, when Drew reached him, the other scientists close behind.

"Are we the only ones who think _rushing_ him right now is a bad idea?" Paul muttered to Zander.

_We _are_ the only ones who know what he can do,_ Zander thought.

Paul looked at the telepath for a moment. "True," he finally said.

Doyle flinched from Drew's touch, and shuddered. He stared at her, stared _past_ her, with a strange look in his eyes.

Then his eyes cleared, and he looked right at her. _So his eyes change color when he's agitated?_ Drew wondered. _Huh. Heard of that; never seen it before, and I didn't know _he_ was that way._

She decided the thought was irrelevant, and shook it off. "Are you okay?" she asked.

He waited until he could breathe easier before answering. "I—I guess so." He tried to stand, but he was still trembling.

The scientists were focused on Doyle; nobody saw the tiny robot fly in to investigate one of the trees he'd been climbing.

* * *

**Will Mizuki regain control over his temper? Will his research ever be recovered?  
**

**Anyway, why _did_ Abbey steal it? Did she do it alone, or did someone hire her?**

**And what's the deal with that tiny robot?**

**Find out in future chapters of...Ultimate Heist.  
**

**

* * *

I believe someone once said in my history that they'd like to see a fight scene?  
Well...**

**Let me put it this way. I'm the one who came up with this scene, and I'm still not halfway sure what was going on. Putting it into words didn't help.**

**I guess "fight scenes" are just one of those things that some people do well and some people don't.  
But I'd better work on improving it, because there's no avoiding them in **_**this**_** story.**

**And his eyes "changing color" is Drew's first clue (at least in this story) to what Doyle is capable of...except she didn't know what she was really looking at. She just assumed that Doyle was one of those rare people with "mood eyes."  
Readers of my generic history may recall similar scenes...and recall just what that change signified.  
**


	2. Confessions

**Once again, in this chapter, I own Zander and nobody else.**

**Mizuki breaks out of his OoC-ness in this chapter, but Doyle...gets worse.  
The problem should be resolved by the end of the chapter. Or, worse case scenario, technically between this and the next one.  
Again, readers of Ships in the Night, my generic history, will see why. Those who haven't read it: Zander is willing to try to explain.**

**Assume that in this story, the Saturdays know (and remember, in Doyle's case) the nature of Zander's relationship to Doyle from Ships. And that they know the nature of the laws Zander's father had been researching back then. And so on and so forth.  
Just because I don't feel like fitting an explanation into the flow of this story. The same may not be true of my other...*ahem* Alternate Timelines that **_**also**_** draw on the generic history. In fact, it frequently won't be. Doyle will be surprised to learn those details in other stories.  
What the Saturdays **_**don't**_** know in this one (at least not yet) is that Doyle had been tested alongside Zander.**

**One more thing.  
Way back when, the Secret Saturdays wikia had an entry about Doyle and Drew's parents being Gypsies. That rumor has never been verified to my knowledge, and the entry appears to have since been removed, but the notion has managed to keep a grip on my fanfics. So...**

* * *

First Theft

"I'm sorry about this," Drew said. "Professor Mizuki isn't usually like this. I don't know _why_ he—"

Another roar interrupted her, as Mizuki hauled himself onto the ledge.

Drew turned to face him, sword in hand. Doyle managed to push himself onto his feet. Drew glanced at her brother; his eyes had changed again.

"Hold still, you traitorous _vermin_!"

Zander's face drained of all color. _Tell me he didn't say what I think he did,_ he thought at Paul.

"Be glad to," Paul whispered, "but then I'd be lying." His expression mirrored Zander's.

Doyle's expression flickered, and Mizuki actually recoiled. In that moment of hesitation, Arthur managed to get a bead on him, and shot the Hibagon with the Force Blaster.

Miranda tried to shake off her fear. "I had no idea Doyle was so chivalrous," she muttered to Doc. She chuckled nervously.

"Neither did I," he replied.

Zander shook his head. "It isn't chivalry," he told them. "Not exactly. It—he doesn't like seeing anyone accused or treated poorly for some trait they have no control over...like bloodline. At least not since it happened to him." He glared at the Hibagon.

"I never accused—" Mizuki growled.

"Really?" Arthur replied. "'As far as I'm concerned, you're in league with her.' Weren't those your _exact_ words, professor gorilla? And why, exactly, would you think that, except for some crazy reason like, say, Miranda's related to your thief?"

Mizuki blinked. He stared at Arthur for a moment, and blinked again. "I—I _did_ say that, didn't I?" He looked around at the Scientists' fearful expressions, and hung his head. "I'm sorry. I was—"

"Doyle!" Drew's cry cut Mizuki's apology short. "Doyle, come on, sweetie, focus." She took his head in her hands and turned him to face her. "Focus, Doyle. Look at me. No, you look at _me_."

"What's wrong?" Doc asked.

"I don't know," Drew said. "It looks like he's going into shock, but..."

Doc rushed over to see. The description was certainly close, though there were a few oddities. The younger man's eyes were pinning, rapidly contracting and dilating like a bird's, and staring at nothing. His skin was pale and slick with sweat, and his breathing was shallow.

_But quiet,_ Doc thought. _Almost like he's still controlling it, actually. Like he's trying not to be noticed._ Doyle was trembling so badly, it was a wonder he was still standing, and Doc called Fisk over to help him force Doyle to sit down before the younger man _fell_ back down.

Doyle flinched at their touch, and he clenched his fists so hard that blood began to seep through his gloves where his fingers pressed into his palms.

Drew caught sight of the blood trickling past his fingers. "Zak!" she called out. "Get some bandages, _now_!" Zak ran off to comply. Drew tried to pry Doyle's hands open, to pull his gloves off to get at the wounds.

Zander's eyes flicked down to Doyle's hands, then back to his expression. _Come on, bro_, he pleaded, _the fight's _over_. Snap out of it, already!_

"What did Mizuki do to him?" Doc whispered. He turned to confront the Hibagon. Mizuki may have been ready to apologize to Miranda, but this was something else.

But when he turned, he saw that Mizuki was just as astonished as the rest. And just as alarmed.

_Mizuki is not to blame,_ Zander thought at Doc and Drew, causing them to jump. He preferred that only a select few knew of his skills, and he used this trick so rarely that it was hard to get used to. _Not...directly. His actions have triggered a memory._

"All right, everyone," Doc said. "Back up. Move it, people, give him some air." He waved his arms at the group. After most of the Scientists had moved away, Doc caught Zander's eye, and nodded slightly to indicate he heard.

_A very specific memory,_ Zander continued, returning the nod, _and a very unpleasant one._

"Obviously an understatement," Doc muttered.

"Then you should be able to wake him up," Drew said. She flicked her gaze to Zander, then quickly back. She continued to try to get Doyle to focus on her; she didn't dare look away for long. "Can't you?"

_No,_ Zander replied. _He seems to realize that it's only a memory; he is trying to resist acting on it. But if I interfere..._ He shook his head. _We cannot afford to distract him. Not while his instincts shriek at him to lash out at the least little threat._ He frowned. _But maybe..._

Drew managed to peel one glove off, and began to work on the other. To press so hard that he cut his palms...that was never a good sign. It especially worried her that he'd managed it through the gloves, almost as much as his behavior worried her.

She was so focused on the task that she did not notice that the gloves had not even been marked.

_Check his wrists_, Zander said.

_His...wrists?_ Drew wondered. _He couldn't mean—_ Dread filled her as she pulled off the other glove.

_No, nothing like that_. Drew gave a start; Zander wasn't one for reading private thoughts, and she hadn't realized she had been that 'loud.' Zander's 'voice' held a smile, a mild reassurance that the truth wasn't _quite_ the horror she imagined. _His instinct to survive is too strong for that_, Zander continued. _No, check the _backs_ of his wrists._

Drew glanced at Zander, then turned one of Doyle's arms over.

Doyle whimpered, quietly, and pulled his hands away.

But not before Drew saw the thick white line. And on the other wrist, a similar mark. She frowned, staring for a moment at where she'd held his hand. "Doyle..." She looked back up at him. "Where did you get those scars?"

Finally, Doyle seemed to focus on her.

"After mom and d-dad were killed," he said quietly, stumbling over the words, "s-some of the vil–villages I'd been in. S-some of them believed that all Ro-romani are th-thieves."

Drew's eyes widened.

"Romani?" Doc repeated softly. "You mean _gypsies_? Drew, what is he talking about?"

One of the scientists made a derisive noise, startling Doc. He'd forgotten anyone else was around. "Well, _that's_ because they—"

"Breathe one more word of that sentence," Zander said to the one who'd spoken, "and I _will_ have to hurt you."

In spite of Zander's weak frame, the one who'd spoken decided there was wisdom in silence. It was no secret that Zander had friends among the Romani.

"Go on," Drew prompted.

Doyle nodded. "I—I re-remember dad tell–telling us, some pe–people don't like Ro-ro-" He swallowed. "Romani, but I hadn't kn-known it would be-be _that_ bad." He made a noise that was halfway between a laugh and a sob. "I d-don't think I ever fla–_flaunted_ it, b-but I hadn't known to t-try to h-hide it. I di-didn't _know_ that's why they—" He broke off, clearly trying to choke back another sob.

Drew took one of his hands between hers, trying to comfort him. "What did they do to you?" she whispered. She continued to watch his face; though he appeared to be looking at her, he didn't—quite—seem aware of his surroundings. Zander's doing, possibly. And his eyes still looked so strange.

"S-some of the v-villagers believed the..." Doyle swallowed. "The best way to d-deal with a th-thief was to—was to cut—was to—"

"To cut—" Doc glanced at the scars. His face paled. "Cut off your hands?"

Doyle tensed up, and he clenched his fists again; his hand closed tightly over Drew's.

Drew gasped at the pain, but resisted the urge to yank her hand away. It felt like something—several somethings—sharp, not nails, but claws, dug into her arm where his fingers pressed down. She tried to hold very still, hardly daring to breathe.

After a moment, Doyle relaxed his hold a bit. He nodded. "S-someone gave me money, to-to buy f-food. The m-man I wanted to-to buy from had-hadn't seen me s-steal anything. And-and I _hadn't_ stolen an-any-anything, ever. B-but he de-decided I _must_ be a th-thief, and that he had-had to p-punish me." He began to tremble more violently.

Zak returned with the bandages. Fisk covered the boy's mouth before he could ask what happened.

"If there hadn't been someone with him that day," Zander said, continuing where Doyle left off, "near enough to come running when he started _screaming_...he _would_ have lost his hands...and probably his life."

Doyle's shaking subsided, and he looked around. Actually _looked_. His expression, and his eyes, turned to normal. "Um..." He drew himself inward. "Why is...why is everybody staring at me?" he whispered.

Doc and Drew shared a puzzled glance, then Doc looked at Doyle. "You...kind of zoned out there for a while. You had everybody freaked out about it." He crouched to peer at the younger man. "Are you okay? Do you—do remember what happened?"

Doyle shook his head. "I remember Mizuki yelling at Dr. Grey about that theft, and then..." He shook his head again. "Everything's kind of fuzzy after that. I _think_ I picked a fight with him."

"Not exactly," Mizuki replied. "Technically, I picked the fight. I had lost my temper. You'd stopped me from taking my anger out on Miranda, so I tried to take it out on you, instead." He managed a smile. "You fight well...for a human."

"Yeah, well, us lunatics have to, if we expect to survive," Doyle said. He caught Paul's eye. "Especially when fighting homicidal gorillas."

Paul tried to disguise his laugh as a cough.

"Are you okay now?" Doc persisted.

"I'm—I'm not sure." Doyle tried to stand up, and had to brace himself against a wall when he started shaking again. "I think—I think I'd like to go lay down."

He waved off their help, and made his way into the airship.

Drew stared after him.

Arthur cleared his throat. "So, uh, Slim," he said to Zander. "How did _you_ know about any of that? And don't say 'I'm psychic'." He made quote marks with his fingers.

Zander smiled. "I know about it, because it happened when Doyle was under my family's protection."

Drew gasped. She looked at Zander. "How..." She cleared her throat to try again. "How old was he?"

Zander shrugged. "We couldn't be sure; he was a scrawny little thing back then. I think we guesstimated around five or six. But he could've been undersized, like me."

"Do you happen to remember when it was?" she asked.

Zander told her the date.

She shook her head. "Seven. Almost. You wouldn't know it to look at him now, but he _was_ always small for his age. But even so..."

"It doesn't matter how old he was," Doc said. He growled. "Bad enough if it were an adult, but for them to do _that_ to a _child_!"

"Now you know," Drew said, "why I've never told _anyone_ about my heritage."

Doc nodded. "I'd wondered. I—I'd heard stories. I'd heard some of the nasty rumors people spread, but I had no idea it was _that_ bad. And what they did to him... I'd thought that barbaric custom was done with centuries ago."

Drew didn't reply; she simply took the bandages from a dumbfounded Zak, and went up to go check on her brother.

"You actually remember the date?" Arthur asked.

"How could I not?" Zander sighed. "That was the day he finally decided he couldn't trust _anyone_."

"Anyone?" Doc repeated. "Except your family, you mean." Zander shook his head.

"It was the only way," Zander whispered. "We'd tried... He knew he was important to dad. He knew dad wouldn't want anyone hurting him. He understood that, even if he didn't understand _why_." He let out a deep breath. "I'm not trying to make excuses, but it was the only way to get him moving, to convince him to go back out into the village, and to stop looking at the servants like even _they_ might pounce on him the instant he turned around!"

Doc's eyes widened. "You promised him nobody would hurt him," he said.

"I didn't think anyone would," Zander replied. "I thought... Well, dad was important to the village. Money talks, that sort of thing." He shrugged. "Dad was richer than the whole village combined, and that gave him a lot of influence. We thought if the villagers got used to seeing Doyle with one of the household, or our friends, wearing dad's emblem, maybe they'd realize Doyle was under our protection. And we thought none of them would want to make dad mad at them. And that's what I told _him_." He closed his eyes, squeezing back tears. "We were wrong. All it took was one of the servants taking his eyes off Doyle for a second and..."

"But you were trying to _help_ him," Doc protested. "He should still have trusted _you_."

"What child would trust someone who breaks a promise like that?" Zander asked.

"But—" Doc paused. "You didn't break that promise, Zander. I don't care if _are_ psychic, you couldn't have known they would do that. It wasn't your fault that—"

"Don't tell _me_ it wasn't my fault," Zander snarled. "Try explaining that to the seven-year-old that I made that promise to. Explain it to the _seven-year-old_ who'd been stuck in bed for a _month_! Sick from infection, week from the blood loss, unable to so much as sit up for more than five minutes. And even when he could get up, he was still all but helpless, but too afraid to _accept_ our help." He shook with anger. "When you convince the child that Doyle was that some people can be trusted...when you can convince that child that _not_ everybody is an enemy, that he doesn't have to be afraid of the world, then you can go on about how none of it was _my fault_. But until you've convinced that _child_, _I don't want to hear it_!"

Doc stood quiet through the tirade. He thought he could understand where Zander was coming from. Zander had inherited his father's strong sense of justice, and this attack would have been a serious violation of that. But that wasn't all. Zander and his father were well known for taking in and rehabilitating abandoned and abused animals. Never mind that Doyle was human; that this happened while he was under their protection must have felt like a personal failure. Like they'd contributed to that injustice.

And the child that Doyle had been, with everything he'd gone through, would not have understood. To him, Zander and his father _would_ have been just as untrustworthy as the people who'd hurt him.

Especially after Zander had failed to keep his promise.

Doc sighed. "I think...I'm going to go check on Doyle."

He overheard Mizuki talking to Zander as he left. "I really should apologize," Mizuki was saying, "but it may not be wise to return to the topic..."

Zander agreed, and tried to change the subject to the nature of Mizuki's research.

—

A strange sight met Doc on the airship.

Doyle was half-crouched in bed, staring at Drew. Doc glanced at his expression. _That deer-in-the-headlights look, again._ Though there was something odd about how he held himself, how he gripped the mattress and blankets. Doc remembered the way he'd moved in that fight, and revised his assessment. More like a wolf, or one of the great cats. But _not_ a hunter; a cub, and definitely afraid.

And Drew wasn't moving. She looked right back at Doyle, afraid to meet his gaze directly, but not daring to look away. "He was laying down when I came in," she muttered to Doc. "I tried not to startle him, but..."

So she'd picked up the same idea. That memory must have shaken Doyle worse that it had seemed, and it had rattled him plenty that they could tell. Doc decided he'd love to wrap his hands around the throat of whoever had done that to him.

Doc wasn't aware of having moved, but Doyle's attention suddenly fixed on _him_, and the younger man cringed. Then Doyle's gaze began darting around the room, resting briefly on him or Drew, then darting around again.

_Looking for escape routes?_ Doc wondered. It was hard to say; Doyle's gaze didn't rest on any one thing long enough for them to be sure he was looking _at_ it, but if he was spooked, maybe that was the idea. If he thought someone was threatening him, he certainly wouldn't want them to know which way he planned to run.

Then Komodo barged in. The lizard took one look around the room, made his way straight over and onto the bed—where he knew he wasn't allowed—thrust his head between Doyle's arms so his back was pressed against Doyle.

And started _purring_?

Though the lizard had remained visible the entire time, Doyle had noted his entrance, and then ignored him.

As Komodo purred louder, Doyle appeared to relax a little. After Komodo got so loud that Drew and Doc had to resist covering their ears, Doyle stopped staring at them. He looked down at his hands for a moment before unclenching them, and shifted into a more normal position.

Drew risked looking away to trade another puzzled glance with her husband.

When Doyle finally spoke, his voice was rough. "I don't like talking about my childhood."

Komodo started whining to be petted, and Doyle complied.

"How did you—" Drew began.

"I thought you said you couldn't—" Doc said at the same time.

Doyle smiled, but he did not look up at them. "I said it was _fuzzy_, not gone." He shrugged. "And anyway, Zander filled me in on anything I...wasn't too clear about."

Drew slumped. She took only bare comfort in the arms Doc wrapped around her. "We could help you," she whispered. "If you would tell us _anything_—"

Doyle shook his head. "I _can't_ tell you. Drew, I would give anything to remember even half of it." His laugh had a bitter note to it. "Even if it was just to realize what a colossal mistake that would be."

Doc was startled. "You don't remember your childhood?"

"Not much."

Doc hesitated. He was entering very dangerous territory. "And what about...the rest? What you do remember?"

"I would give—" Doyle took a deep breath and let it out slowly "—_everything_..." He finally looked up at them, and they were not surprised to see the tears. "To forget."

Less than a minute passed, though it felt like hours, before Doc spoke again. "Not that I can blame you, not if _that's_ typical of what you remember. But you do realize that talking can help, don't you? We could help you to...to lay the bad memories to rest, and to recover the good ones."

Doyle looked at him with a doubtful expression. "'Good' ones? Like what, my mother rocking me to sleep?"

Doc shook his head. "I don't know that you'd remember that far back, not from before—" _Dangerous territory._ He cleared his throat. "Uh...before you were separated. It happens, but it's rare, with how young you were. But after..." He shrugged. "You know Zander was trying to look out for you, even if you didn't understand it then. Couldn't some of your time with him have been a good memory? And how do you know there weren't _others_?"

Doyle still looked doubtful.

"We just want you to know," Drew said, "that if you're ever ready to try, we're here for you. We'll listen."

"_They'll_ listen," Doc corrected. Drew glared at him, and he grinned. "I'll _try_ to listen. I can't promise my full attention, especially not if you suddenly feel talkative in the middle of a mission, at some crucial point when we can't afford distractions..."

Komodo walked over and smacked Doc with his tail before going outside.

Drew sat down where Komodo had left, and began wrapping Doyle's hands in the bandages. She saw the tears in the blankets and mattress out of the corner of her eye, but decided she wouldn't yell at Komodo for it this time. "Mr. Comedy besides the point," she said, "I'd like it if you'd at least think about it. And please let us know?"

"I—I'll think about it."

Doc's radio crackled to life. Arthur was calling for them. "Speaking of distractions," Doc groaned.

Doyle sighed. "Why don't you two go on back? Sounds like they need you."

Drew remained seated; she just watched Doyle, not saying anything, until he looked at her.

"I'm fine now," he said. "I'm just...going to close my eyes for a while."

"Are you sure?" Drew asked.

"I'm sure."

Drew was reluctant, but she finally allowed him to persuade her to leave.

As they approached the group, Doc looked Drew up and down. "And now is when I ask the question that you would have killed me over, if I'd asked it earlier."

Drew lifted an eyebrow. "Is it that dangerous a question?"

"It could have been," Doc replied, "if I'd tried to ask it _before_ you'd looked in on him." He took her hand, the one that Doyle had grabbed earlier. "Are _you_ all right?"

She pulled her hand back to look at the scratches.

Neither of them noticed Paul watching them, tense, and listening very carefully to her reply. Neither noticed that he had his hand on a weapon.

"I caught myself on a tree the other day, is all," Drew finally said. "I didn't think I'd hurt myself that bad, but when he grabbed me..." She shrugged. "It's nothing. I'll mend."

Paul breathed a sigh of relief, and removed his hand from the weapon.

None of them, Paul included, noticed Zak watching all of them with a very thoughtful expression.

**

* * *

**

**What did Mizuki see, or sense, that made him back off?  
**

**Will this memory, or another like it, spell trouble for the Saturdays? Will Doyle be able to remember more of his childhood?  
**

**Why was Paul holding a weapon while eavesdropping? And what did Zak make of...well, _any_ of it?**

**And just what _was_ the deal with that tiny robot?**

**Find out (or not), next time, on Ultimate Heist.**


	3. Rumors

**Okay, this time, I own the subjects of the rumors.  
I don't own anyone else.**

* * *

Second Theft

Days passed. Doyle stopped flinching when anyone tried to speak with him. Within the week, he began to smile again, but he still became quiet and withdrawn at odd moments.

Months passed. The purpose of Abbey's theft was yet to be determined, and though Mizuki's notes were backed up, the stolen prototypes were never recovered.

Life slowly returned to what passed as normal for the Secret Scientists.

The Saturdays were just sitting down to breakfast when they received a call.

Komodo looked greedily at the table. Only Doc left the room, though, and Komodo growled in disappointment.

Doyle chuckled at the lizard's behavior, and palmed a couple pieces of food for him. When Drew turned to look, Doyle continued eating with an innocent look on his face that didn't fool her in the slightest.

She opened her mouth, but before she could scold her brother, Doc called for them.

Drew sighed. "Coming, dear." She pinned her brother and Komodo with _a look_, and then she and Zak stood to follow Doc.

Doyle reached for another handful to palm off to Komodo. "_Doyle_!" Drew snapped. "_Komodo_! Get in here!"

Doyle grinned, and tossed one more morsel to the lizard before they obeyed.

"So what kind of cryptid do we have?" Drew asked. She looked up to see Paul on the screen.

"Not sure," Doc said. "According to Paul, nobody's actually _seen_ it, not clearly. We don't have any idea _what_ it is."

"Like I was telling Doc," Paul said, "this...animal has only been roaming around at night. Only a handful of people claim to have seen it, but it's always been in the shadows, so there's never been any reliable detail. The most I've gotten is that they think it's some sort of wolf, but without a good look at even the _shape_..."

"So why call us?" Zak asked. "I mean, it's kind of hard to know what to look for if nobody's gotten a good look at it. How do we know it's even a cryptid?"

Privately, Doc had to agree with his son. He set the computer to scan for similar encounters, but with so little information, he doubted it would find anything.

Drew gave her son a look. "Is it dangerous?" she asked Paul.

"Not yet," Paul replied. "Nobody's reported being attacked, and nobody missing, either. So far people just think it's stealing livestock. _So far_. The town that's reported it is mostly farm country, after all."

Doyle straightened up and displayed a bit more interest in the discussion.

"So we need to relocate it, right?" Zak asked.

"Might not be enough," Doyle said. "Domestic animals are easy prey. If this thing's gotten used to stealing livestock, it may not be able to hunt for itself; it might not be able to survive if we move it." He frowned. "It doesn't have to go after people to be dangerous. A lot of farmers depend on their farms to survive. A domestic animal may understand that the herds 'belong' to someone, but a wild animal won't. And a hungry one won't care."

"See, that's actually where it gets weird," Paul said. "There _are_ farms around where the owners' livelihoods depend on their herds, but none of them reported missing animals. And I've had surveyors out; none of them _are_ missing animals. It's the wealthy ones, those who own the farms but hire someone else to work them, that are losing their livestock."

"Could be someone just trying to make trouble for them," Doc mused. "The few who claimed to have seen it, for example."

"Doesn't matter," Doyle replied. "If the wealthier ones are losing animals, that will just make things worse. Maybe they'll blame their employees for the loss, or else accuse the other farmers of making trouble. Those who are genuinely innocent will want to compensate the victims somehow, to make up for those losses. Or to avoid more trouble, before the 'victims' start demanding compensation."

"What?" Doc said. "But if they can't afford to lose their own animals, they couldn't do a thing about—"

"Actually, that sounds exactly like what's been happening," Paul said.

Doc and Drew stared at Paul, then Doyle, in surprise.

Doyle flushed at the sudden attention. "I...made my way as a farmhand a few times growing up," he said.

"Then maybe the wealthier ones are trying to make trouble for the others," Doc muttered. He shook his head. "Still, like Zak said before. We don't know if this is a cryptid. Why call _us_?"

"Um..." Paul looked around, suddenly nervous. "Well...you see... Well, I'd actually feel a lot more comfortable talking about that...in person."

—

Zak waited, bored stiff, inside the airship while his parents were outside 'discussing' the situation with Paul.

"You think she's _what_?" Doc said.

"Take it easy," Paul replied, rubbing at his ears. "I'd prefer not to lose my hearing this year. Anyhow, I just said it was another rumor."

"Exactly how much do these people believe in this witchcraft?" Doyle asked.

Paul raised an eyebrow.

"Should we worry about history repeating itself?" Doyle clarified. "Trials and the like? Do we just need to watch our step around this woman, or do we need to keep an eye out for the locals?"

"Hard to say," Paul replied, though he was relieved that someone had asked. "Still just rumors, but some of these people are superstitious."

Drew nodded. "You said she keeps to herself. With this creature roaming around, that may be all that's needed to get people talking."

"But none of them have been willing to act on it," Paul replied. "Not that I've heard. The town's pretty split on what they really think about her. About half of them think she called this beast, and the others say she's the reason it hasn't done _more_. Either way, none of them wants her mad at them. But the way they talk when she's not around...and these attacks are getting everyone riled up..." He shrugged. "My own team has had our work sabotaged, and my people refuse to go into town alone; some of them won't go in at all. Nothing serious, but I don't see it staying that way for long."

"So there's someone willing to cause trouble at the first chance," Doc interpreted, "whether we catch this thing or not." He scowled. "Nice," he added sarcastically.

"I guess I see why you wanted us," Drew said. "Cryptid or not, this doesn't sound like something the local authority is up to." She nodded. "Can I assume you've warned this woman, let her know what we're up to? It's only fair that she knows to keep an eye out for trouble."

Paul shook his head. "There's hunters around that go to consult her before they go out, but I think it's a game to most of them. Otherwise, the word is you _don't_ find her. She finds you."

"This just keeps getting better every minute," Doc muttered. "Zak!"

"Yeah?" Zak came out of the airship. "We ready to go?"

"_We're_ ready to go," Doc replied. "You and the cryptids are staying on the airship."

"What? But why can't—"

The cryptid pets started protesting.

"You heard what Paul told us, didn't you?" Drew asked.

Zak hesitated. The whole reason he was on the airship while they talked was so he wouldn't overhear. "Um...yes..."

"Then you know why," Drew replied. "Once we get all we can from the locals and find this thing, _then_ you can help. If this thing's a cryptid, we'll catch it and bring it back so you can talk to it. If not...we'll figure something out."

"But, _mom_, why can't I help now? Maybe I can't control cryptids anymore, but I can still _talk_ to them! I can still sense them. If it's a cryptid, I could find it for you; you wouldn't even have to bother with the town. And if it isn't..." He shrugged. "It's not like I'd be wasting time trying." He looked around at the family. "Come on, Uncle Doyle, help me out."

Doyle shook his head. "Sorry, mini-man, I'm with your mom on this one."

"But...okay, suppose this thing's dangerous. _You're_ the big hunting expert. I know you could get me out of there, if something went wrong."

"If this thing _is_ dangerous," Doc replied, "_Doyle_ will be too busy trying to catch it."

"Oh, thanks," Doyle said in mock sarcasm.

"Well, you do have more experience hunting than anyone," Paul said.

Doc winced. He recalled what Zander had said about _why_ Doyle had so much experience.

"Sorry," Paul said.

Doc sighed, then shook his head. "Don't be." He looked at Doyle. "It's just something we're all going to have to learn to deal with."

"Sorry for what?" Doyle asked. "For saying I'm better than Doc at something?" He forced a smile. "Anyway, mini-man, it's not the creature I'm worried about. If you try to use your powers, and someone happens to see you at it..." He frowned. "Might not be a big deal if they weren't superstitious, but it's just not worth the risk. I don't want to see you get hurt."

"They wouldn't hurt me for that," Zak insisted. "Just because they're superstitious doesn't make them bad guys."

"But it makes them afraid," Doyle replied. "It's different, it's something they don't understand, and that makes them afraid of you. And to a lot of people, that makes you the enemy." He rubbed at his wrist. "For some people, that's reason enough to hurt you."

"People aren't like that," Zak protested.

"Believe me," Doyle replied quietly, "they are."

Doc groaned. The one thing that could hurt Doyle the most, and the younger man had to use it to protect Zak. It showed strength on Doyle's part, but did not bode well for the mission.

**

* * *

So what is this mystery predator? And is it so selective of its prey?**

**And who is this so-called witch?**

**Answers to these and more to be seen in future chapters of Ultimate Heist.**

**

* * *

It should be said that **_**this**_** arc is where I first began this story, and only afterwards decided to do the "seemingly unrelated incidents" thing and add that bit with Mizuki in the first arc.  
The unfortunate result being that even this chapter resembles nothing of the original version...**

**Also, I'd originally planned for the "witch" to show up in this chapter...and the chapter got longer than I expected.  
I don't see why she shouldn't show up in the next chapter, though.**


	4. Mayhem

**I was starting to think that my chapters would have some kind of parallel titles.  
And then I had to divide this one from the next one, and couldn't come up with a better title.**

**I own the unnamed female (a.k.a. the rumored "witch") and the random mostly anonymous townspeople.  
I own nobody else.**

* * *

Second Theft

Hours of questioning turned up few answers. Most of what they learned was simply more specifics to add to what Paul had given them, and those were rare enough.

The further they went into town, the more Doyle shook, but the younger man was determined not to let his discomfort get in the way.

But the further they went in, the more obvious his agitation became, until people began crossing the street to avoid them.

"Doyle, you don't _have_ to be here," Drew said. "You _can_ go back to the airship if you want."

Doyle shook his head. "We agreed that we'd stick together on this one, remember? That one of us might pick up something that the others miss?"

"But we can't even—" Drew began.

Doc caught her eye and shook his head slightly. "Actually, that might not be a bad idea," he said. Drew gave him an odd look. "When's the last time Zak listened when we told him to stay behind? And it seems that this would be about the time he'd start getting bored..." He looked at Doyle. "Think you can catch him before he sneaks off?"

Doyle gave Doc a look of surprised gratitude. Then he smiled. "Sure thing, boss," he said. He gave a mock salute and took off.

Drew was still giving Doc that odd look.

"What?"

"Nothing," she said with a sigh. "Just wondering if I'd regret asking, is all."

—

The Saturdays were able to confirm what they already knew, but learned little else of use.

And this time, it wasn't Doyle's fault.

"You know, those hunters _could_ have told us something useful if you hadn't picked a fight with them," Doc groaned.

"What did you expect?" Drew retorted. "The nerve of that man! He didn't care about the farmers; all he wanted was less competition! He doesn't have any more right to hunt than the thing we're looking for. 'Stealing our game,' indeed." She turned to face the town. "They don't belong to you!" she shouted, scaring several people into ducking into random buildings. "They don't belong to _anyone_!"

"I think I would have been better off with Doyle," Doc muttered. He added, just loud enough for her to hear, "I'm not arguing with that, but did you have to punch the _other_ guy? He was only worried about his fiancée living on her own."

"_He_ was worried about catching this thing to impress her," Drew growled, "not to _protect_ her."

Doc shook his head. He looked forward to returning to the airship, to the sort of mayhem their son was probably up to.

He could not have expected the mayhem that met them.

—

"Look out!" Paul yelled.

Doyle stopped just short of running into his sister, spun on one foot, and dodged around them and into the trees.

Doc and Drew jumped away, right as Tsul Kalu slammed one fist into the ground between them.

The cryptid went running in the direction Doyle had gone.

Doc and Drew climbed to their feet, staring after the cryptid. Drew was the first to recover. She grabbed her fire sword and took off running.

"No, mom!" Zak said. Zon flew him down to land in front of Drew. "You can't interfere. Uncle Doyle has to face him alone."

"Zak, what's going on?" Drew said. "I am in a very bad mood right now, so either tell me _why_ Tsul Kalu is chasing my brother, or get out of my way!"

"I don't—" Zak shook his head. "He's not really trying to hurt Doyle. I can't get a very clear idea of it, but it seems like some kind of ritual."

"What happened?" Doc asked.

"I'm not sure," Zak replied. "Tsul Kalu showed up, Uncle Doyle said something to him—" He frowned, trying to remember exactly what Doyle had said. "It sounded like 'O see yo,' or something like that, Tsul Kalu kind of bowed to him, and then started attacking."

"Some kind of challenge?" Doc said.

Paul shook his head. "Osiyo. It's Cherokee. It's a simple greeting; a _traditional_ greeting, but he may as well have just said 'hello'."

Doc frowned. "Well, Doyle _is_ the only one in the family Tsul Kalu hasn't sparred with. Actually, hasn't Doyle been avoiding him?"

"Yeah," Drew replied, "but that didn't look like sparring..."

Zak picked up his radio. "You know you'll have to fight back, sooner or later," he said into it.

"No I don't," Doyle replied; he sounded out of breath. "I figure best chance I have to live is if he doesn't catch me."

"Doyle, he's a _hunter_," Paul said. "A great one. You can't keep running away from him. He's too good for that."

"Then I'll just have to be better. I _am_ an experienced hunter, remember."

"You're not acting like it," Zak replied. "You're acting like prey."

Doyle gave a start at the words. _I am _nobody's_ prey_, he thought angrily.

He stood up from his hiding place and walked out to where the Saturdays could see him.

Tsul Kalu smiled, then rushed the man...

Then stopped short. Doyle didn't move.

Tsul Kalu growled, and swung a fist at him.

Doyle didn't even try to dodge, and hit the ground a few feet away. He climbed to his feet, then stood his ground as Tsul Kalu rushed him again.

This continued for several minutes, yet Doyle still found the strength to stand.

Tsul Kalu snarled, and gripped his axe.

"No," Doyle said. Tsul Kalu blinked in surprise. "You heard me. You want to fight, then fine. But you deal with me as I am. You want me to defend myself that way? Then forget it." He looked over at his family, then lowered his voice, so only Tsul Kalu heard him. "I don't want to hurt anyone, you _know_ that. I can't—I can't risk losing it again."

Tsul Kalu growled, but accepted Doyle's decision...for the moment. _I will test you again_, the cryptid said, then walked into the forest.

"Okay, now what?" Doc said.

"I don't know," Zak replied. "I don't know why Tsul Kalu stopped. He said 'I'll test you again,' but I don't know what he meant."

Doyle walked back to his family, his mind on Tsul Kalu's words. He barely even noticed Drew fussing over him.

Paul grinned. "You always have that affect on people?" He nodded in the direction Tsul Kalu had gone.

Doyle ignored him.

"'Osiyo'?" Doc asked. "Some traditional greeting? As in, respectful? How come you're never that respectful to...well..._anyone_?"

"I choose to be respectful," Doyle replied slowly, "to the people who allow me to do things necessary for survival. Like, for example, eating."

"We let you eat in our home all the time," Doc said.

"Somehow, I don't think that's what he meant," Drew muttered.

Doc glanced at her. "Hunting, you mean? What, if Tsul Kalu told you that you couldn't hunt, you wouldn't?"

Doyle nodded. "I would not touch a single animal he's in charge of, until he said otherwise."

Doc shook his head. "Tsul Kalu is just a cryptid. A great hunter, but a cryptid for all that. The most he could do is fight you off, but I've never seen you back down when you wanted something. He doesn't have that kind of authority."

"Technically, no, not here," Doyle slowly replied. "But this isn't Cherokee land. Here, it'd be...um..." He turned to Paul. "I'm not too sure of the names. The ones I can think of are Nujalik or Pinga, right?" He grinned. "The ones that are easier to pronounce, anyway."

Paul nodded. "There are others, but most of the rest are in charge of the seas."

Doc looked at them blankly.

Drew stared openly at her brother. "Those are Inuit hunting gods."

Doc started to snicker. Then he realized that Doyle was being serious. "And I was beginning to think you were the rational one," Doc muttered.

**

* * *

Will the Saturdays find the answers they need?**

**Why did Tsul Kalu attack Doyle? What "test" was he talking about, and why did Doyle refuse to go along with it?**

**This and more in future chapters of "Ultimate Heist."**

**

* * *

Yay! The first time I have Doyle refer to the hunting gods! That's going to be a "thing" with him in my stories. (Remember the comments about Benton in "Ships in the Night"?)  
It won't show up all the time, but it will happen, and I'll even have him meet a deity or two in at least one of the fics...**


	5. Clues

**I own the unnamed female (a.k.a. the rumored "witch), the hunter, and the random mostly anonymous townspeople.  
I own nobody else.  
Um...I guess, technically, I own "the figure" (yet to be named), but only in the same way that I "own" Anzu in Ships in the Night.**

* * *

Second Theft

The next morning, Doc and Drew prepared to go back to town for another round of questioning.

Tsul Kalu stopped him. _The creature attacks the farms at night_, he said. _Offer your services to the farmers. Not to hunt this creature, but to work on the farms. You can watch for it, and find your lead._

He said this to Zak, so the boy could translate, but the cryptid looked right at Doyle.

"No offense," Doc said, "but I don't think anyone would hire _us_ to work on a farm. We don't know anything about—"

Doyle sighed. "He means _me_. I've been a farmhand. I may not look the part, but I know how to act it."

"I'm not sure that's a good idea," Doc said. "We need you to keep an eye out here for this thing. You won't get that in town." He winced. The last thing he wanted to say was _we need you away from town, so you don't freak out again,_ but the argument he gave made no sense, even to his own ears.

And Doyle wasn't buying it. "But the farms aren't in town," Doyle replied. "They're all out in the open. What better place to watch than where this thing attacks?"

Tsul Kalu listened briefly to another voice. Doyle shivered upon recognizing the voice, but he gave no other sign that he'd heard it.

Tsul Kalu nodded. He told them where to find the man that should hire Doyle. _His home is a bit to the south, but you will want to enter from the eastern road._ Doc found a map of the town, and Tsul Kalu pointed out which way Doyle should go.

"That seems a bit round-about," Doc said.

_But he will need to go that way,_ Tsul Kalu replied. _And he must reach his destination within the hour, if he is to find your clue to this creature._

"Wonderful," Doyle muttered. "Is this supposed to be your next test?"

Zak gave his uncle a puzzled look. _How did he know—?_ He was sure Doyle hadn't been near enough to hear that.

—

Doyle walked through the town, following the directions Tsul Kalu had given. He really didn't want to be here, but it was early morning yet, and not too many people around.

He was almost to his destination when he heard the argument.

"How many times do I have to tell you," a female said, "I am _not_ moving in with you!"

_Thanks a lot, Tsul Kalu,_ Doyle thought. _You walked me right into a lover's spat._

He tried to figure out how to get past them; he didn't want to get in the middle of it, but his time was running out. He didn't miss the irony that a larger crowd would be useful.

He shook his head. _No help for it. If I'm quiet, maybe I can get around them, and they won't notice._

He stepped around the corner, glanced at the two, then froze. The man matched the description Doc had given of one of the hunters they'd met...and he still sported the black eye Drew gave him.

The woman was an unknown, but behind her was another figure, the one who had spoken to Tsul Kalu this morning. Doyle shivered to see that entity, but the two people did not acknowledge it.

The man had opened his mouth to reply to the woman, then shut it on catching sight of Doyle. He glared until Doyle continued on his way.

Doyle ducked into an alley, and listened in as they continued their argument.

"It's just until the creature is gone," the man replied to her.

Doyle learned a few interesting things. For example, the man who'd told Drew that he was engaged to this woman was clearly not. He apparently hoped that killing the thing would impress her enough that she'd agree to marry him.

But Doyle learned little else, and was about to give up.

Then the woman said one more thing.

"I don't need _your_ protection," she said. "The forest takes care of its own. It has always taken care of its own. That creature will never harm me."

_Now how could she know that?_ Doyle wondered.

**

* * *

Why did Tsul Kalu send him that way?**

**And what "clue" was he supposed to find?**

**

* * *

Hmm...something else was supposed to happen in this chapter, but it started getting long. ****Long enough that I divided it into **_**three**_** chapters. (More to the point, the events of the following chapter alone are what made it "long.")**


	6. Fire!

**This was originally part of the previous chapter. I divided them only because of length.  
On the other hand, something else was supposed to happen, as well. That must wait until the next chapter, also due to length.**

**I own the hunter, the still-unnamed "witch," the kids and their parents, the random mostly anonymous villagers...and the creature. (It finally appears!)  
I own nobody else. Which I guess is just Doyle.**

* * *

Second Theft

The farmer—or rather, the landowner, as this was one of the wealthier ones—was only too happy to hire Doyle for the night. He admitted that Doyle didn't look much like a farmhand, but the redhead quickly demonstrated his knowledge, and he certainly _looked_ like he could handle the wild animals.

Several nights passed, and Doyle saw nothing on guard duty. None of the other farms reported attacks.

Some mornings, after his shift ended, he saw that woman leave town. Sometimes that hunter was with her, repeating the same old argument, and sometimes she was alone.

And except for any hunters, the few people who were up and about that early avoided her. They were polite when they ran into her, but they clearly wanted to be somewhere else.

Doyle began to arrange his path so that he would see her. He thought it odd that she left so early; she probably wasn't spending the night in town, not when she clearly did not wish to live there, not when she supposedly lived elsewhere. He doubted she was here for the same reason _he_ was, and wanted to know what she was up to.

One morning, he finally he decided to approach her. But she surprised him by confronting him.

"You've been following me for the last week," she said. "Who are you, and what do want?" She looked at him oddly, looked _through_ him, rather. She held her walking stick uncertainly, like she wasn't sure if she should hit him with it.

Doyle hesitated. What reason could he, a 'farmhand,' have for following her? But she didn't seem all that impressed with that hunter's motives, either.

One of the townspeople hurried down the road, and Doyle moved aside to let him pass.

After the man had gone, the woman spoke again. "You must be new here," she said, still staring at the spot where Doyle had been standing, "otherwise you'd know to avoid me." She smiled, but her tone was bitter.

Doyle frowned. _Why was she...?_ He looked again at how she held the walking stick. It wasn't white, but maybe...

He cleared his throat. She twitched at the noise—nobody else would realize he'd just startled her—and whirled to face him. And still looked through him. _Thought so._

He decided to use the story Drew had given. Entirely truthful, but not the entire truth. "My family studies unusual animals," he said. "We've been looking into reports of this...creature attacking the farms, and we're kind of trying to get as much intel as we can. You're one of the few people we haven't talked to, yet."

"And why would you want to talk to a known witch?"

Doyle lifted an eyebrow. _Is that the way of it, then?_ "Suspected witch," he corrected. "All I've heard is rumors. There isn't any evidence that I know of."

"And since when does anyone wait for evidence?" she muttered. "All they _need_ is rumors."

The question, simple as it was, shook him worse than he could afford. He tried to ignore it. "Speaking of rumors, the way I hear it, nobody's supposed to be able to find you; you find them."

She smiled that bitter smile. "That's because nobody _wants_ to find a known witch."

"Suspected," he said under his breath. "Rumored. Not known."

Her smile became slightly less bitter, but she continued as though he hadn't spoken. "The only ones who ever care to speak to me are—Nerrivik, help me, here he comes again," she breathed.

Doyle blinked. What was she talking about? He looked around and saw that hunter approach with a furious look on his face.

"Who do you think you are?" the hunter snarled.

Doyle believed it would only aggravate the hunter further, but he chose to ignore the tone and take the question at face value. "Name's Jonathon Benton," he said, holding out his hand. The hunter didn't even look at it, and Doyle let his arm drop. "Sorry. I'm new in town, fellow about a block over hired me a week back, and I haven't gotten around to introducing myself to everyone yet."

"Maybe it's different where you come from," the hunter replied, "but around here it's considered..._impolite_ to hit on someone else's girlfriend!"

_'Girlfriend'?_ Doyle thought. _Didn't you tell Drew you were engaged?_ He forced himself not to smile. "A bit insecure about his hold on you?" he muttered to the woman in question.

"What hold?" she muttered back. "I was merely telling Mr. Benton about this creature you people are so afraid of," she said to the hunter, "since the 'great hunters' of this town somehow neglected to warn him." The hunter flushed in embarrassment. "Or, at least, I was _about_ to tell him, until you—"

She broke off and began sniffing the air.

Doyle frowned. He'd caught it about the same moment she had. "Do you smell smoke?"

The hunter laughed derisively. "Of course you smell smoke. People should be starting to cook breakfast about now."

Doyle shook his head. "Not a cook fire; too strong for that. Wrong smell." He took off running in the direction the smell came from. The woman followed close behind, and the hunter, after a moment's stunned silence, followed her.

_It _would_ be in the center of town_, Doyle thought. He stifled a groan. He didn't see any smoke, or fire, but the smell was stronger here. Too strong.

And she apparently thought the same. "The fire is small, yet, but it's putting out a lot of smoke," she said. She continued to sniff at the air.

"Can you see it?" Doyle asked. Then he realized what he'd said. "Stupid question, of course you can't." He scanned the buildings, looking for even a sign of the smoke. He thought he identified the right building. "Is there anybody inside?"

She frowned. "I'm not sure...the smoke is masking them...yes. Yes, children. Three of them, I think." She looked straight up at the building Doyle had marked. "Top floor. They're alive, but they've fallen to the smoke. They can't get out or call for help. Their parents are below, sleeping."

Doyle nodded. "All right." He made his decision. If the smoke had already gotten to them, then nobody else was close enough. "Call the fire station," he said to the hunter.

"What? But there's nothing—"

"_Do_ it, already!"

The hunter blinked. "You're both insane," he muttered, but pulled out his cell to comply.

Doyle headed towards the front door, when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"You'll never get to them that way," the woman said. "Not to the children; not in time. The fire is spreading. I can hear the floors caving in."

"Then how do I get in?" Doyle asked.

"The house in back sits right up against it. And you'll want to warn them, anyway."

Doyle nodded. He dumped his jetpack—it'd be an explosion waiting to happen—and ran around to the house she indicated.

He kicked in the front door, and started pounding on doors as he went, shouting about the fire.

He reached the room she'd directed him to, and shot a hole in the shared wall. He couldn't help snickering at the resulting explosion; those people would _have_ to believe there was a fire, now.

Doyle leaped into the other building, and proceeded to search for the children. He prayed to whatever gods were listening that the woman was right, that it was just the three of them, and that he would find them in time.

_One, two..._ "Hey, kid," he said, gently shaking the oldest one awake. "Is there anyone else in here?"

The oldest child opened his eyes and looked around groggily. Then she started hacking. She looked at who else Doyle held, and nodded. "Mom 'n dad are downstairs," she said between coughs, "and my baby brother's in his crib." She tried to look around, and pointed.

Down the hall, where the fire had started.

Doyle's heart sunk. There was no way he could get to the baby now, not with the other two in his arms, but if he took them to safety first, the baby would die.

If he hadn't already.

The heat was building, the smoke was billowing and the fire spreading. Time had just run out.

Doyle turned to leave, to bring these two children to safety, when he heard the walls crack.

He sprinted back to the exit, but he was too late! He stepped on a weakened board, and started a chain reaction of loosening and breaking wood that ended with the heat-warped walls collapsing on top of him and blocking the exit.

"No!" he screamed. He could get out—he could get the children out—if he just had more time...

He felt the little girl tugging on him, but she was still so weak from the smoke, and he could feel himself succumbing, his struggles weakening, his vision fading...

He awoke to the sound of crying. He blinked groggily, and stared across the room. There stood what looked to Doyle's fogged mind like some great wolf made of shadow and light. And in its jaws was the baby, very much alive, upset at being woken, and crying its misery for the world to hear.

The wolf paced the room in confusion. It was looking for something—_for us_, Doyle realized—but did not seem to know where they were.

_The smoke must be masking our scent!_ "Here!" Doyle called. He started hacking, and tried again. "Over here!"

The little girl stared at him as though he were crazy.

The animal crawled forward on its belly, whining entreaties to the children. It laid the baby down in front of them, then ignored the little girl when she snatched up her brother and tried to soothe him.

The wolf's ears pricked at the sound of Doyle's struggling. It pawed at the debris, then worked its way under to brace it. Slowly, Doyle managed to pull himself free.

The children backed away in fear of the wolf, unaware, or uncaring, that they moved closer to the fire.

Doyle looked at them. He tried to shake the fog from his brain.

He forced himself to stand and picked up the two older children, and deposited the smaller on the wolf's back before they could protest.

The wolf took the baby in its jaws again, startling a gasp from the girl in his arms, but it carried the child gently as could be. The wolf whined at Doyle, waiting for him to take the next step.

Shooting through the wall was risky, but there was no other good way to clear out the damage, and no time to find another escape.

He took aim at what he thought was a good spot. He fired, and before the damage could spread any further, he and the wolf took the leap and tumbled into the other house.

They made it downstairs and outside, to find that the fire trucks and ambulances had finally arrived.

And there were three people sitting in the ambulance. One was the hunter, looking a sorry sight and holding an oxygen mask to his face. The other two looked a bit like these children, and came running when they saw Doyle with them.

The little girl took the baby from the wolf's jaws, and the other child stood to join her. The wolf backed away, back into the shadows where they couldn't see it.

The parents gathered up their children in their arms, but before they could thank Doyle, they were all shuttled back to the ambulance to receive treatment for the smoke.

The hunter looked around wildly for something, and muttered to himself, saying "where is she" at random moments.

Doyle was too out of it to think of what that meant. When the paramedic's back was turned, he jumped out of the ambulance, found his jetpack, and flew back to the airship.

And promptly fainted.

**

* * *

**

**How did the woman know about the fire, when nobody else did? For that matter, how did _Doyle_?  
**

**Where did that wolf come from?**

**And what did the hunter mean at the end?**

**

* * *

I haven't quite decided ****the wolf's color scheme yet. I'll pass it off for the moment as being difficult to tell amid the smoke.  
Not to mention Doyle being somewhat out of it by that point.**

**A description of the other physical characteristics will soon come.**


End file.
